Behind Closed Doors
by Atari-chan
Summary: [Hot Fuzz] The Andys get home, away from prying eyes. Slash.


_Summary: Hot Fuzz The Andys get home, away from prying eyes. Slash._

_If you find this, Mi-chan, and it gets your hopes up, then sorry. It's just me. Love you!_

Start Story:

"Pretty stubborn, in't he?"

Andrew Cartwright yawned as he took at seat on the sofa, resisting the urge to put his feet up on the coffee table. Andy wouldn't be too happy about him sitting, soaking wet, on the sofa, but he'd let it go. The idea of muddy boots on the glass coffee table, though, would be enough to make him flip. In the hallway, he could hear the other man taking his coat off, before he headed for the bathroom to leave it hanging up over the bathtub, where it could be allowed to drip freely.

Cartwright smiled to himself; Andy's behaviour bordered on obsessive-compulsive, but he couldn't help but find it cute at times. His seniority in rank was completely forgotten the moment they stepped through the door of the cottage they shared, and he was surprisingly motherly.

A point proven by the towel that hit him in the face as Andy returned from he bathroom, bottle of Stella in each hand.

"Thinks he's still in London, don't he?" Wainwright sat next to his friend, watching somewhat critically as he towelled his hair dry. Flicking his own damp locks out of his eyes, Wainwright took a swig from his bottle as he reached for the remote and switched the TV on. Wrinkling his nose in distaste as he saw the complete range of bollocks that made up daytime television, he edged away slightly as water from the coat Cartwright was still wearing spattered on his face and shirt.

"What are you, a fuckin' woman?" Cartwright muttered, finishing with the towel and handing it to his friend, who began to pat his own hair dry, "Oh, come here."

Losing patience, Cartwright leaned over, taking the towel back and rubbing it rather vigorously in the other's hair, despite somewhat offensive muttered objections and threats of violence. As he finished, leaning back to admire his handiwork and meeting the annoyed glare of his companion through the tangled hair hanging in his face, though, he smiled, leaning in once more to kiss him softly, tangling his fingers in soft, damp hair as he felt the other man respond. As he moved to pull Wainwright closer, though, he met with some resistance, the other man's hand, braced against his chest, preventing him from closing the gap.

"You're not comin' anywhere near me 'til you take that coat off. You're fuckin' soaked."

"Oh come on, Andy," Cartwright persisted, police training enabling him to take his partners hands and remove them from his path. Unfortunately, Wainwright's own police training left him unable to move any further, since both of his hands were occupied.

"Take the fucking coat off," Wainwright held firm, leaning backwards as Cartwright attempted to move in again. Pressed his advantage, though, Cartwright kept leaning until Wainwright was pinned against he arm of the sofa, without the option of further retreat. Again ignoring the glare he was getting from the other man, Cartwright leaned down to capture Wainwright's lips in another kiss, trying his best despite the awkwardness of their position as he savoured the contact. The village of Sandford might have won Village of the Year for God knew how many years, but it was _so_ secluded, separate from the rest of the world, and both police officers knew that if they dared to mention their relationship in public, it wouldn't go down particularly well.

Cartwright smiled, though, as he felt Wainwright's body apparently betraying his will, the other man's mouth and body melting against his, tongue fighting for the dominance he was usually allowed. But this time it was Cartwright, in a particularly stubborn mood, who was refusing to relent, enjoying the role reversal while he could. He could feel Wainwright beginning to struggle against the grip on his wrists and responded by withdrawing slightly, just out of reach, the warmth of his lover's slightly shaky breaths warming his lips as he duly ignored the glare that was being directed at him. Taking full advantage of his position, Cartwright touched his lips to Wainwright's before trailing kisses down his jaw and nipping lightly at the skin of his neck, adoring the slight hitch in the breath of the man beneath him, the man he'd wanted for so long. Any struggling ceased as he alternated; biting, licking and sucking at the exposed skin above Wainwright's collar, all too aware of what drove him crazy, what shattered his resolve completely. Nobody knew Andrew Wainwright better than he did; they'd known each other for 33 years, been friends for 29; lovers for 4. Four years of having to hide how they felt from everyone else in Sandford.

A particularly sharp bite made Wainwright hiss in pain, and, realising his error, Cartwright sucked gently to soothe it, feeling sorry for taking his anger out on the only one who really understood, however unintentionally it had been.

"You can't leave a mark…" Wainwright said quietly, though, as Cartwright's mouth lingered a little too long. The smallest of things would get people talking, and they would inevitably reach the right conclusion when security footage showed them heading home together, front curtains closed as always. They sacrificed the ability to look out, but the threat of someone else looking in was somehow more of a concern.

Sighing, Cartwright shook his head, dropping a final kiss onto the slightly reddened skin before releasing Wainwright's wrists and abandoning his efforts.

"It's not fair," he muttered sadly, wanting nothing more than to be able to throw caution to the wind and act exactly how he wanted around the man he loved so much, but haunted as always by the fact that, no matter what happened, he couldn't do it. Couldn't ruin Wainwright's life like that.

"Life isn't fair."

Wainwright's expression and voice were sympathetic, but his comment all too realistic. Their situation wasn't the best, he wouldn't argue with that, but there was nothing they could do about it.

"I just… want to be able to… walk down the street holding your hand. To be able to kiss you without it being behind a locked door. To be able to tell you I love you whenever I want."

Wainwright felt his chest constrict painfully, as it always did when Cartwright said things like that, and reached up to stroke his lover's cheek with the back of a finger. He wanted desperately to say yes, to let Cartwright do all of those things because, of course, he wanted them too. Desperately. But he couldn't. He knew that.

"Andy. It doesn't matter what we do out there. It doesn't matter what they _think_. What matters is that I love you. And you love me. We've got each other."

Feeling awful as Cartwright's mood continued to decline, Wainwright pulled him into another kiss, trying desperately to stop him from falling into the depression that seemed to get getting worse with every passing day they were forced to deny how they felt about each other. The response, though, was half-hearted, almost out of habit, and only served to make him feel guilty. He had been the one who had confessed, after all, suddenly snapping after a week of doing absolutely fuck all and pinning his subordinate desperately against a filing cabinet. It turned out that Cartwright had loved him for months, and the two of them got so caught up in the moment that Danny had almost walked in on them, having knocked and received no reply. What he would have done if he had seen them, Wainwright's hand slipping under Cartwright's waistband, the DC whimpering helplessly into his mouth, bucking desperately against warm fingers, Wainwright didn't want to know, but he was sure it wouldn't have been pretty.

"C'mon, Andy," Wainwright tried in vain to cheer his companion up, "It could come sooner than you think. Not tomorrow, 'cause that's Danny's birthday, but the day after. Sergeant Angel comes riding in on a white horse, determined to rid the village of prejudice; homophobia and all."

"What makes you think he's any better than they are?"

Wainwright rolled his eyes as Cartwright's predictably cynical response.

"Oh, come on! Nicholas Angel? What kind of faggot name is that?"

Cartwright finally allowed himself to laugh, smiling gratefully at the man who always seemed to know how to cheer him up. This time, he met Wainwright halfway as he was pulled into a kiss, although it only lasted for a moment before the other man pulled back to speak.

"Alright, come on. Let's get that coat off you," Wainwright smiled, beginning to push the offending item of clothing from Cartwright's shoulders and accepting the kiss that greeted him as he leaned in.

"It's not even wet anymore."

Between soft, sweet kisses, Cartwright managed to make his objection, although he shrugged the coat off in acquiescence, finding his ability to resist failing as Wainwright sucked softly at his bottom lip.

"I know," Wainwright paused in his ministrations to give Cartwright a meaningful look, before emphasising his point with a tug on the front of the other man's shirt, pulling him back into a kiss as he began to unbutton it. He felt Cartwright smile, his hands beginning to stray too, sliding under his shirt, exploring skin that had been agonisingly off-limits all day. And he couldn't help himself.

"Love you, And'," he muttered, and felt Cartwright squeeze him in reply.

"Love you too."

End

_Awwwwwwww, I love the Andys. They're so gay together. Actually the third of my Hot Fuzz fics, this is the first one I completed, two Nicholas/Danny ones in the pipeline, although I've come to the conclusion that I hate them both. Maybe a new one, if people want to read it?_

_The strange thing is, the most difficult thing about this was the use of their surnames as opposed to their first names. Which is strange, considering my main couple is House/Wilson. Possibly because the Andys' surnames take longer to spell, and with the speed of my typing I always manage to get the letters in the wrong order the first time around. Arse._


End file.
